


Ain't That A Studded Black Leather Platform Boot To The Head?

by LaurytheLatrator



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: But he's not important, It's a very tense confrontation, Jealous Vince, M/M, Original Male Character - Freeform, There is quite a lot of yelling in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 17:26:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4068397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaurytheLatrator/pseuds/LaurytheLatrator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vince catches Howard being kissed by the Nabootique's summer shop hand. Things go from bad to worse from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ain't That A Studded Black Leather Platform Boot To The Head?

Doug, what a stupid name. Really, a fitting name for such a twit.

Vince glared at the blonde stocktaker from his seat by the window. To anyone else he was reading the latest NME, but he hadn’t turned the page in ages.

 _It’s only for the summer_ , Howard had said with a smile beneath his ‘stache, _And Doug’s plenty friendly, it’s only you who’s the problem_.

Yeah, Vince was always the problem nowadays. He’s the one that needed saving now, not Howard, because he was the one making all the mistakes. Couldn’t help it. And Howard must’ve grown tired of it.

“Alright, Vince?” Doug chirped as he finished closing the till.

Vince tipped his chin up. “Yeah, alright.” He answered grudgingly, looking down at his magazine.

“Think I’ll just tell Howard I’m finished, yeah? Maybe we can nip down to the pub.” That was something they did, Doug and Howard. Vince had been invited by Howard initially, but warned, _It is rather a sports crowd though_. Right, another hint that Doug was better than him, he could blend in to ‘normal’ folk the way Howard liked, rather than standing out like Vince.

“Sounds good.” Vince replied without gracing the man with a glance.

 _You sure you’re not jealous?_ Howard’s remark one night cropped up in his brain (cell) as it often did.

_Why would I be jealous of some cardie wearing scouser?_

_For the last time, he’s from Blackpool. And… I dunno, maybe because he’s actually 25 instead of…_

Vince had stormed off at the implied dig at his age. Normally he’d brush off a comment like that from Howard easy, but he was actually hitting a nerve. It wasn’t Doug’s age, not really. But Vince was jealous. Because Howard liked Doug, was drawn easily into banter with him that never turned sour, liked being seen in public with him. Doug was cheerful and exuberant, but could put that aside to listen to Howard, hanging off the northern berk’s words like he was Bhudda.

Vince was well aware he’d become less Sunshine Kid since leaving the zoo, but he hadn’t realized Howard was so ready to replace him. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? Hard to maintain your sunny exterior when, in the span of three years, you figure out you’re in love with your best mate, realize he’s too pin-straight to ever see you that way, watch him try to leave you behind time and time again, and to top it all off have said best mate chuck you humiliatingly after you just literally kissed the sense out of him.

No one could be happy all the time after all that, surely? A little sarcasm and bitterness was bound to creep in. Hadn’t realized it was a big deal until Naboo suggested hiring extra help for the supposed summer rush and Howard immediately came back with some happy-go-lucky blonde bloke. But there weren’t nothing Vince could do without acting like a right bitch and revealing to Howard just how far gone he was.

Howard. Vince had seen less and less of him since Doug popped up, but he had expected to chat with him now it was closing time. Drop a hint about going to the club with a music promoter. If only they could go back to the band times. No matter how many bands Vince tried to insert himself into, it was never the same as being onstage with Howard. Didn’t matter that the reviews had been shit, Vince had _fun_. Now it took all of Camden adoring him to make him feel half as good as standing beside Howard did.

Speaking of, Doug was taking an awfully long time to fetch Howard. Vince dropped his magazine on his chair and strode to the back store room. Howard’s name was on the tip of his tongue, but the sound of hushed tones gave him pause.

“It’s not that simple.” Came Howard’s low murmur from the back door. Vince pressed closer. It was rare to hear Howard that serious now that Doug was here brightening his life.

“I say it is.” Doug replied brazenly.

“I’m not—I mean I haven’t ever—There’s just the one—“ Howard’s stammering was cut off and Vince found himself opening the door as if in a trance. Doug and Howard were cornered by Naboo’s collection of antique hookahs. Doug’s hand was in Howard’s wispy brown curls. Howard had his eyes shut, and for some reason that got Vince’s gut twisted more than the sight of their mouths pressed tightly together.

“Oi! Get off him!” Vince’s shrill tone succeeded in breaking the two men apart. Howard couldn’t have looked more startled. Taking several threatening steps forward, as threatening as steps could be in three inch high gold heels, Vince glared at Doug and said, “What do you think you’re playing at, eh? Where do you get off coming at him like—“

“Vince.” Howard said, shutting him up with his soft tone. Vince turned his gaze to his friend, who was stiff as a board with tension, but not angry. Finally sensing he’d got it wrong, Vince floundered.

“Did you… Did you want him to?” Howard shuffled uneasily as both Vince and Doug waited for an answer that never came. And that, well, that told Vince everything. “I don’t believe it.” Vince muttered, and Howard flinched. “You won’t with me, but some blonde twink comes along and you’ve not just bought a ladder, you’ve emptied out the DIY shop.”

“Watch it, you tart!” Doug retorted sharply, his cheeks burning red.

“Er, Doug, why don’t you go home, Vince and I—“

“Oh no,” Vince interrupted Howard, throwing his hands up, “I’ll get out your hair, carry on mate, whatever flips your bloody switch!” Spinning on his heels, Vince stormed off like a teenager, as was becoming a habit.

He took the stairs to the flat two at a time. Naboo and Bollo were in the kitchen stirring brownie mix. Vince stomped over with his finger outstretched on instinct.

“I wouldn’t.” Naboo warned him, and a little sense returned to Vince. Naboo squinted at him for a moment. “What’s got your lacy knickers in a twist?”

The urge to reveal what he’d just witnessed was strong, partly to rant and whine on his own account and partly to embarrass Howard. But the twinge in Vince’s stomach was too sharp to allow him to make light of the scene.

“Nothing.” He said finally. “Just gotta figure out what I’m wearing to the club.” Seizing the opportunity to flee, he made straight for the bedroom.

“Bollo thought Vince already spend three hours picking outfit?”

“Yeah, well I’ve changed my mind!” He shouted over his shoulder at the ape. Slamming the door harder than necessary, Vince flopped onto his downy soft bed.

Christy it wasn’t fair! He’d been dealing with being the wrong gender to appeal to Howard, coming to terms with it and all that. But now he knew it wasn’t his parts that Howard didn’t like. It was him. Vince, just Vince. And that was just the platform boot kick in the head to top off his whole day.

The click of the door opening had Vince scrambling to sit up. Howard’s lanky shadow appeared on the floor that Vince crossed to get to his closet. Haphazardly he flicked through his clothes, back firmly to his flatmate.

“Vince?” He hummed absently in answer. Howard must’ve taken that as invitation enough because the door closed and Vince heard his footsteps into the room. “I sent Doug home. And gave him a holiday.”

“That’s great, lucky Doug.” Vince said, unable to stop himself from sounding snide. Howard shifted awkwardly behind him, he could sense it.

“You, er, found a fine time to develop an interest in stock.”

Vince’s blood boiled. “Right. Didn’t realize I had to knock to get into my own storeroom. Haven’t you ever heard of a sock on the door?”

“That’s not, er, I mean…” Vince threw something feathery and some drainpipes across the room to land on his bed. “Vince,” Howard’s voice was suddenly odd, “You’d never wear a lilac frock with green trousers.”

“What d’you want, Howard?” Vince demanded as he spun to face his mate. Patience thin, he carried on, “What, want me to throw you a welcome party to the bi community? I’m not interested, all right?”

“What you said, downstairs.” Howard said haltingly, his gaze down around Vince’s ankles. “Did you mean it?”

“‘I’ll get out of your hair’? ‘Swat I’m trying to do, innit?” He replied with a wild gesture towards the admittedly abhorrent clothing combination.

“No, I mean,” Poor Howard, looking like the words were fighting him, “About being put out that I wouldn’t… with you.”

Vince rolled his eyes despite his blush. He’d hoped Howard would’ve forgotten that slip of the tongue, or at least have the decency to leave it alone. Turning back to his closet, he paid a bit more care in finding something to match the frock.

“I’m not interested in Doug.” Howard stated firmly behind him. Vince’s arm paused, then resumed its perusal. He didn’t reply to Howard’s statement. “He’s a good lad, and I do like him,” The blouse in his hand was going to get wrinkles if he clutched it any tighter, “But not in that way.”

Vince gave a little scoff, feeling as though he might as well be coughing up blood. “Right, straighter than a ruler, you are.” There was a heavy pause filled with the rustling of fabric.

“I could talk to him, Vince.” Came Howard’s soft yet weighty reply. “About being interested in men.” That got Vince spinning around in shock. The two stared at each other for a long while.

“‘Cause I’m so subtle, yeah?” Vince finally said, clutching at sarcasm. “No clue how I’d take the news. Naboo’s the enigma, not me. You can’t have _actually_ been afraid to tell me. What, was I gonna kick your shit in with my bedazzled trainers, or impale you with my stilettos?” That earned him a smile, even if it was still aimed around his knees.

“I thought he only pushed the matter because he wanted me to open up, but apparently he fancied me a bit.”

“Looked like more ’n a bit where I was standing.” Vince muttered, churlishly folding his arms.

Wincing, Howard got out quickly, “I doubt it was really me he was after. He thought I had more experience, what with our age difference, and—“

“You reckon he’s just after a big Northern bear?” Vince joked, but Howard seemed more pained than amused, so he begrudgingly went on, “C’mon Howard. I caught the bloke listening to jazz when you were away. No 25 year old’s gonna subject themselves to that unless it meant something to someone they liked.” Chancing a glance up, Vince was arrested by Howard finally meeting his eyes. There was determination there, a strength that caught Vince’s breath. He pressed his lips together and tried to look away, but like his own reflection, he kept coming back to Howard’s face.

“I didn’t get around to telling him,” Howard said purposefully, yet with a thrum of nerves, “That it was one man I fancied.” His throat worked as Howard swallowed. “Just one.” The floor dropped out from underneath him, but somehow Vince managed to stay upright.

With a wry attempt at a smirk, he said, “You’re taking the piss.”

Howard shook his head while maintaining eye contact, needlessly adding, “No, sir.”

“Me?” Vince had to confirm with a squeak.

“Why’s that so difficult to believe?” Howard asked, voice a little lighter. “Haven’t you always said everyone’s a bit attracted to you?”

“Well, yeah, but just a bit, usually, and not…” _You. You never acted like you fancied me, like you could. All these years and I’ve always known I could like you, but you’ve never let on._

The Confuser. That’s what he was, that’s _all_ he was. Women wondered why they wanted to shag the mascara right off him, and men questioned their sexuality. But no one ever fell in love with The Confuser.

_Howard doesn’t love me. If he ever did, there’s no way he does now._

Vince ducked his head to ruffle the back of his hair, giving himself a moment to compose himself. When he raised his head, he wore the right mix of exuberance and mocking.

“Fancy a bumming then, Howard?” Vince asked in a deeper voice reserved for the bedroom, but never _their_ bedroom, not until now. Predictably Howard jumped as if jolted with electricity, his cheeks turning rosy and his adam’s apple bobbing. Vince grinned like he’d seen the hyenas give the antelope. “I don’t normally go for the Tom Selleck on holiday type, but I suppose I could make it work for a favor.”

Howard opened his mouth, then shut it with a frown. He tried again, “Vince, weren’t you jealous of Doug earlier?”

“For God’s sakes, Howard!” Vince cried out, dropping the act. “I’m trying to give you what you want, can’t you stop trying to humiliate me?”

“Why were you jealous?” Howard asked, taking a step closer.

Vince backed up towards his closet. “What?”

“I need to hear you say why.” He responded, painfully honest, and Vince didn’t think to try and move away when Howard closed the distance again. Practically toe to toe, Vince looked up at his mate.

“Because he was kissing you, all right?” Vince groused, shifting uneasily. Howard’s demanding expression still unsatisfied, Vince tacked on mulishly, “Because I’d quite like to kiss you.” That still not being enough, the words began to flow from Vince like a tide he couldn’t stop. “And because you liked him hanging around more’n me. You took him out in public without once asking him to change his outfit. You talked to him, and we used to be able to talk about anything. And the thought that you’d go gay for someone you’d just met when I’ve spent a good chunk of our lives failing to seduce you makes me sick inside.”

“Do you love me?” Howard asked when Vince was forced to take a breath.

“Jesus, you really want it all out.” Vince shook his head in frustration only for Howard to rear back. Realizing his mistake, Vince said quickly, “Yes, I love you! You great northern twat. I’m in love with you, isn’t that fucking hilarious.”

Needing distance if Howard was about to chuck him again, Vince tried to push past him, but Howard was a wall of tweed. A hand snaked up to wrap around the jumpsuit’s elbow, and Vince looked up at Howard’s face. His expression was, uncomfortably for Vince, a familiar shade of awe.

“I love you too.” Howard murmured. Vince gave a futile tug of his arm, irritated beyond measure.

“Course you do.” He griped bitterly. “You’d love anyone who could remember your name, let alone tell you they love you.” Shaking his head, he added, “This is exactly why I didn’t tell you, couldn’t have you going off again like you did on the roof.”

“I mean it. Vince,” Howard bent his head so they were more or less on eye level, “I loved you before my birthday party, d’you remember? I even told you in the arctic.”

“Yeah, and took it back on the way home.” Vince pointed out with a sneer. “Can you get your ginormous mitts off the pleather?” Howard slowly let go of his arm, but Vince didn’t follow through in moving away. He was closer to Howard than he had been in a while, and it felt silly to squander that, especially seeing as his secret was out.

“How can I prove it to you?” Howard asked, with a touch of pleading in his tiny eyes. For some reason that look got his heart pumping hard. Trying to hear his brain (cell) through the blood rushing past his ears, Vince shook his head.

“Look, it’s nothing like—I just know you is all. I know how you get. You’re all swept up in your romantic notions, then I’ll make a mistake like laughing or falling over and you’ll forget all about it. We had a pattern, yeah, and it worked.”

“Vince, I’m so unhappy with whatever ‘pattern’ you think we have. It’s not working, alright?” Howard said sharply. “I’m trying to fix it.”

“Really? ‘Cause from where I’m standing you’ve spent this whole time bullying me into confessing my feelings so’s you can feel chuffed about yourself.”

“That’s not—!” Howard cut his exclamation off quick, his hands flying to tug at his hair in frustration. “Alright! Alright? So I’m not as good with my emotions as you, Vince! I can write poetry about the abstract notion of love but I can’t—“

“Oh please not a cream poem, I’ll actually be sick.”

“I love you!” Howard said, the words bursting right out of him. “I’ve fancied you since we were kids! You always stood out with your poofed up hair and badges on your uniform. You paid attention to me when no one—and I’m sorry if you think I’m some flighty leech for attention, but you’re hardly one to talk, are you?”

“What’re you on about?!” Vince yelled right back. “You think I’m flighty, do you? Where’ve you been for the last decade? Leaving me at school to work at the Zooniverse and pissing off to Denmark! And where’ve I been, eh? Clinging to your coattails, trying to follow you, when you’d let me! Have I ever once tried to ditch you the way you’re always ditching me?”

“What about the Black Tubes, eh? What do you say to that, sir?”

“That was a tour! I’d be back in a few months, we both knew that! Big difference between that and, ‘I’m off to Denmark and then Hollywood and I’ll prob’ly never see you again!’”

“It wasn’t—“

“Two weeks!” Vince was past yelling, he was practically screeching now, and he’d honestly thought he’d gotten over the bruises Howard’s indifference had caused, but apparently they’d still been lingering under the surface. “Two bloody weeks and no calls! Not even a postcard! What was I s’posed to think? ‘Course you’d chucked me! All I do now is ponce around in catsuits and mess shit up and start rows! Why don’t you ask Doug to move in and get off with him and let me bloody well _move on_!”

Howard stared at him as Vince was left panting for breath, his whole face surely a blotchy red. Vince felt very exposed in the aftermath of his rant, more so than his gaping jumpsuit ever made him feel. He was suddenly aware how much like a hysterical wife he sounded. He hadn’t realized just what was going on in his beach ball head. He felt too close to Howard, but he was too exhausted to move away. 

Stock still and pale, Howard’s mustache twitched. “Please don’t.” He said softly.

Vince squinted at him. “What?”

“Don’t move on, please.” Howard requested, exceedingly British. Sighing, Vince closed his eyes, and so he missed the moment that Howard leaned down. The kiss took him by surprise, but Vince knew better than to deny himself this. Maybe he was weak willed for not pushing Howard away when he still wasn’t convinced this wouldn’t fade by tomorrow. But Howard’s lips were nice when he was actually participating, soft but firmly pressed, and his mustache prickled in a pleasantly comforting way like no other kiss he’d ever had.

Besides, Vince never liked to worry past maintaining his look for the evening.

Taking Howard’s face in his hands, Vince kissed him back sweetly, less frantically than their first. Vince didn’t try and open his mouth, but stroked Howard’s cheeks gently. Howard seemed content to keep on like that for ages, savoring a closed-mouth kiss like only a virgin could. _Thank god for that_. Vince did pull back though, his hands cradling Howard’s face. The two blinked at each other for a quiet moment. Howard licked his lips, trying in his own way to be discrete, but the movement gave Vince a strange flutter.

“Alright?” Howard asked, shy and earnest and achingly Howardly.

Despite his doubts, Vince smiled. “Yeah, alright.”

**Author's Note:**

> Should I apologize? I felt like there was so much Vince/Howard angst that needed to come out, so I ended up having Vince's heart broken and them just yelling at each other. At least they kissed, right?
> 
> I couldn't resist slipping Boosh references in (Liverpool/Blackpool), and I sort of envision Doug as Dave Brown, if that doesn't make me a creepy person.
> 
> Anyway, I might have a go at a happier, sillier Boosh story soon. Let me know what you think!


End file.
